Necrosis
by Chaos242
Summary: The eternal cult dedicated to raising their dark master has finally put their plan into action.  Three friends who once shared an office will now have to share rations as the world plummets into chaos.  Humans caused this doom, but will humans fix it?
1. Chapter 1

Necrosis

Chapter 1: The Result of a Death

So far, the auditions had gone off without a hitch. It had been one of those random occurrences, when a talent scout had witnessed the three friends and their town's annual talent show, he had immediately seen their potential, they could go places, those three. He had hastily scribbled down their names and recommended them to a small studio holding auditions for a new TV series. Three friends walked down the sidewalk, talking and joking, just as they would on any day. Karla hadn't known much about either of the other two until the talent show, the three had shared jobs in the office but she had rarely spoken to them. Trevor and Ian were close friends, their cubicles were adjacent to each other and they'd convinced Karla to join them in the talent show as their performance required a third member. Trevor was a strong young man, barely twenty-three, and had an inept sense of caring towards everyone he met, including his new wife. Ian was older than Trevor by four years, and much more of a cynical person. In his earlier years he'd been something of a misanthrope, but gradually grew to tolerate people. Karla was twenty-five and had always been the girl that was out of the loop on everything, whether it was on the latest gossip around the school when she was young or the new stories around the office now. People just felt there was something weird about Karla, so they avoided her.

"Thanks for lunch Ian," said Karla as the trio walked back to the studio.

"It would have been kinda romantic if Trevor wasn't there." She smiled up at him. Trevor slapped Karla on the back of the head.

"Does that mean you guys didn't actually want me there?" said Trevor jokingly, "That means I missed out on eating alone at some cheap hot dog stand."

Ian laughed while Karla made a face of disgust.

"Well, are you guys ready for the second half of the auditions?"

"Yeah!" Karla replied "I get to knock some guy out in one of my scenes; that ought to be fun." A mischievous smile played across her face.

"Let's not get violent here." Chuckled Trevor "Speaking of which, you guys hear that the government had to quarantine some cities, weird disease spreading in em, I hear Vegas went under lockdown yesterday."

"Well that's a damn shame." Retorted Karla sarcastically

"Let's drop the subject." Ian suggested "That whole thing is just depressing, next thing you know, we're gonna have raccoon city on our hands."

The trio broke out into laughter. They had reached the studio and it was starting to get dark out early, the cold December air beginning to bite. As they glanced around through the small offices and few studios, they noticed something.

"Where is everyone?" wondered Ian aloud.

"Maybe they all are still out to lunch." Karla suggested.

"It's late as it is, kinda creepy that they're not back by now." Said Ian with a hidden grin

"The only thing making this creepy is you." Said Trevor with a smile.

"But really, we should try and find somebody and finish these auditions up," said Trevor "I need to be home before nine, or my wife'll kill me."

A painful scraping noise pierced the friends' ears, sending chills down their spines. The scraping was followed by the sound of something heavy being dumped onto the ground and then all at once, the lights went out. They stood, frozen, fearful of what they could not see, fearful of the unknown, as all humans are.

"I think we should get outta here." Whispered Ian

"What's to be afraid of," said Trevor with a hidden element of nervousness, "It's just an empty studio, there's nobody here but us."

"I think we should make sure," suggested Karla, "Besides, this could be more interesting than just talking."

Trevor took out his phone, using its weak light to try and get some of his sight back. The other two did the same, and started down the hallway, towards the noises from earlier.

'_I'd rather not do this, but if they will, then I will too' _thought Ian to himself.

'_I hope this turns out to be worth the effort'_ though Karla.

'_These two, I wonder what I'd be like without them.'_ thought Trevor with a smile.

"Over here guys," said Trevor as he opened a door, "The janitor's closet, we could borrow some flashlights or something."

"Good thinking." Said Ian, "My phone wasn't doing a damned thing to help."

They all took flashlights, and started down the hallway again. Three separate circles of light moved precariously around the space ahead of them, searching the bleak darkness for the unknown. Farther away from them, another scraping noise was heard, this time it was much more prolonged. The scraping changed to a metallic tapping, growing closer to them with every step they took. Trevor put his hand in front of Karla and Ian, motioning for them to stop moving. He put a finger to his lips and pointed towards the tapping noise, mixed with the tapping noise was the sound of shuffling, clumsy footsteps. They pointed their flashlights towards the sounds, trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything to appease their curiosity, to quell their fears.

'_Let it be a drunk janitor or something.' _Thought Ian as images of every monster movie he'd seen flashed in and out of his mind's eye.

Trevor lowered his voice to below that of a whisper, "I think that it's just a janitor, they do work late sometimes after all."

"I don't think it's a janitor." Said Karla as she started stepping backwards

Ian moved his flashlight again and caught a glimpse of hair and pale green, its clawed hands tapped against the wall as it moved. Ian let out a stifled scream and started backing away. Karla saw a giant arachnid face, covered in many black reflective eyes. The creature moved faster now, breaking into a run.

"N-no way!" said Karla, "This just can't be real!"

Try as he might, Ian had lost his ability to move. _'RUN GODDAMNIT!' _he yelled to himself. But the monster before him was just too horrible; he was paralyzed by his fear. Karla started walking backwards slowly. The creature sped up, only a few meters away from them now.

"GET BACK!" screamed Trevor as he pushed his friends back the way they came; he quickly turned to face the enemy before him. '_Protect them.' _He thought to himself, '_Protect them all'_

Ian's flashlight gave little sense of direction to help him as he followed the faster Karla down the hallway. Karla broke even farther ahead of him and suddenly stopped. '_What is she doing?"_ Thought Ian, then it occurred to him when he heard glass break. 'S_he's busting the window on a door to get inside!'_ Karla dove inside the studio room and took cover behind a chair. Ian quickly followed her, taking cover next to the door, trying to catch a glimpse of Trevor or that thing he saw earlier.

"Just what the hell was that!" said Karla between sobs, "It, it wasn't human!" Ian barely looked at her; he just kept scanning the hall with his eyes, trying to see his friend through the darkness. "I mean did you see that thing?" cried Karla again, "Did you see it?"

"Yes, I saw it." Said Ian, "Now be quiet, I'm trying to hear what's going on back there."

"He's dead!" cried Karla, "Trevor's dead! He has to be!" Karla broke down into a childlike cry. "This isn't happening, this isn't happening, oh god this can't be happening!"

The thing ran at Trevor, lifting a knifelike hand over its head and then bringing it down onto Trevor, who turned his body enough to only get a shallow cut on his arm. Trevor threw his flashlight at the thing, hitting it in the head, stunning it briefly. He sprinted down the hall, into the Janitor's closet, and grabbed a broom. '_I can't see anything!'_ Thought Trevor as he squinted in the darkness, trying to see It. A shrill, high pitched laugh struck Trevor. He walked back into the hallway again, broom in front of him like a fighting staff. The Thing stood in the open, knife appendage hanging at its side like a broken arm. It started walking in a shuffling, sloth-like motion, leaning to one side with every step. Trevor charged forward, bringing his broom up at the Thing at an angle, catching it in the head. The Thing yelped in pain before it laughed again and grabbed the broomstick. It pulled itself at Trevor with insane speed and struck him, Trevor stood motionless, the knife appendage sticking in his stomach. Trevor felt skewered like some kind of animal, the knife a blade of numbness, which was spreading around the wound. The thing pulled the blade out of him in a quick, vicious motion, and all at once pain seared throughout Trevor. His stomach was only ground zero; the pain leeched its way all over his legs, which gave out beneath him. Trevor pushed himself backwards, towards the janitor's closet, his mind in chaos, his body even worse. His hands felt like wooden fakes, giving no sensation of pain or anything otherwise as he crawled into the closet. The Thing was following slowly, emitting a shrill laugh every few seconds, as if something were tickling it. It seemed to be enjoying Trevor's anguish, savoring the pure emotion and distress. Trevor pulled himself up to sitting position, leaning against the cold wall. The Thing was right in front of him, laughing like a maniac, reaching into the air with its knife appendage. Trevor put his arm up over his face as the Thing struck him again and again. Soon he didn't have the strength to hold his arm up and it fell uselessly to his side, covered in vicious slashes, blood openly pouring from the numbed wounds.

"Please…" muttered Trevor weakly, "Stop…"

The Thing stopped for a second before kicking him in the stomach, sending Trevor from sitting position to the floor.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that!" said the Thing in a frantic voice as it kicked him over and over. "Did you say you wanted me to stop? Well I have news for you; I'm having way too much fun with you to stop now!"

Trevor could barely hear the Thing now; he couldn't respond to it even if he wanted to, his lungs were filling with his own blood. His body convulsed and he puked up his precious life-fluids, breath strained and inconsistent. The Thing saw Trevor's condition and rolled him over to face the ceiling, preventing Trevor from puking up more blood.

'_It hurts.' _Though Trevor, '_What do I do? Someone…someone save me! Karla, Ian, ANYONE! It hurts so much…'_

The Thing started to walk away, its prey no longer making noise. Then it felt something grab its leg, It looked down to see the broken shape of its victim, wrapping his good hand around it's ankle.

"Oh? You can still move? How persistent you are!"

The Thing put its foot onto Trevor's exposed neck, and slowly pressed down. Trevor made a gurgling noise and clawed at Its foot, each attempt becoming weaker and weaker. The lights flickered on, revealing the Monster in all its terrible horror: a balding, middle aged man, holding a bloody knife in one hand. The man walked down the hall, towards the room where he knew he'd find the other two.

"Damnit!" yelled Ian as he tried to call the police again, "I'm just not getting a signal."

Karla was on the floor, curled in the fetal position, with drool oozing from her mouth and onto the floor. She kept repeating it over and over like a chant, "This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening…"

Ian looked at Karla's pathetic form and kneeled down next to her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. He helped her up and she clung to him like a baby monkey to its parent.

"Ian…" muttered Karla through her quick and random breathing, "What's gonna happen to us?"

'_We're probably going to die.'_ Though Ian to himself as he glanced out of the door's window again.

"We'll be alright." reassured Ian, "Don't worry; I won't let anything happen to you."

Karla buried her face in his shoulder before sitting back down onto the floor again. She wiped some tears from her face and looked Ian in the eyes.

"What about Trevor?" she asked, "He's out there alone with that thing…"

"Karla, you know Trevor, he wouldn't let something like tha-"

A shrill laugh cut the conversation like a razor blade as the man grew closer to the room they hid in. Ian turned off his flashlight and hid just next to the door, out of sight from the outside. Karla crawled behind a chair and put her hands to her ears.

The man smashed through the little glass window with his knife before he reached into the door with his arm, feeling for the doorknob. Ian jumped out from the darkness, pulling the man's arm down in a quick, jerking motion. The jagged glass cut into the man's arm, piercing an artery. The man jabbed his knife through the window, catching Ian's arm, the cut went deep. Ian screamed something awful and fell backwards, removing the knife from his arm, which bled profusely. Karla was huddled in a corner, legs close to her body, arms wrapped around herself.

"It's just a dream, it's just a dream, it's just a dream…" she muttered again and again from under the chair. The man opened the door and walked towards Ian, clutching his bleeding arm.

"Karla!" cried Ian and the man got closer, "Help me!" Karla got up and smashed the chair over the man's head, sending him to the ground with a thud. Blood dripped from the man's ear, Karla broke down again, crying hysterically. Down the hall, Trevor's body convulsed as he drowned to death in his own blood.

"Is, is it over?" asked Ian to nobody in particular, "Did we get him?"

The man's body twitched for a second, and Ian kicked him in the head. After he didn't move anymore, they moved on, satisfied that he was out for good. Ian and Karla started down the hallway, to look for their friend. As they approached the Janitor's closet, Ian saw the growing puddle of blood and Trevor's lacerated arm sticking from the doorway.

"TREVOR!" yelled Ian as he ran to the door and saw his friend's still warm corpse with its eyes glaring towards the roof.

Ian crouched over Trevor's bloodied corpse, shaking him like a doll, trying to awaken his good friend. Karla dropped to her knees behind Ian, putting her face in her hands and crying.

"Trevor…" said Ian, "Y-you can't be gone!"

Karla fell to the floor, crying loudly. Ian kept shaking his friend.

"R-remember when we got into that fight in second grade?" asked Ian, "We really did a number on each other. It's one of my favorite memories…DAMNIT! You can't be dead! All the times we hung out together, DOESN'T THAT MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU! WAKE UP!"

Ian buried his face in Trevor's chest, getting his friend's blood in his hair. Ian lifted himself up, and Trevor's blood trickled down from his hair, and pooled in his eyes before running down his cheek like a tear. Karla was lying still, in total shock, and barely moved as Ian walked past her and back into the classroom they'd hidden in. He walked up to form of the murderer, the middle aged man was surprisingly frail looking, and had very thin limbs.

"_This guy?" _Thought Ian to himself, _"Did this guy really kill Trevor?"_

The man stirred, his arms moved to push his torso up off the ground, and he got up into a sitting position. As this happened, Ian felt the rage growing inside him like an explosion, he gritted his teeth, squeezed his hands together until they started bleeding from his nails. Ian put a hand on his face, covering half of it, with only the side drenched in Trevor's blood visible.

The man groaned and felt the back of his head before looking up at Ian with a sense of confusion.

"Hey you?" said the man, "Were you the one who hit me?"

Ian stood, shaking with rage, and shook his head.

"Oh, musta been that pretty girl with the curls." Said the man nonchalantly, "I bet she'd taste great!"

"You, you killed Trevor." Said Ian in an unsteady voice, "Why?"

The man made a noise of confusion before laughing, "You really want to know?"

"Yes"

The man smiled broadly, "I don't really know why I did it, really just felt like it, like something in the back of my head told me that it'd be fun to try. And it really, really was!"

Ian got the sense that the man was being sarcastic. He got it in his head that someone must have paid this man to kill Trevor.

Ian burst forward, slamming the man against the wall with one arm, and grabbing the man's wrist with the other. He pushed the man's fingers into the doorway, and after pinning the man with his leg to free his other arm, pulled the door shut hard on the man's fingertips.

"How'd you like that?" asked Ian in a frantic voice, "You feel like telling me who paid you to do this?"

The man hadn't even let out a whimper when his finger tips shattered, "Not really, is that the best you've got?"

Ian pushed the rest of the man's hand into the doorway and spammed it down; he heard the sick crunch as every bone in the man's hand was destroyed. The man again looked almost bored.

"You done with that crap, kid?" asked the man, "I'm really itching to get at the pretty girl behind you."

"DON'T FUCK WITH ME!" yelled Ian as he reeled back to punch the man

Ian's fists flew at the man's face; he just laid there and took the hits. The man's face grew red and raw, soon his skin started to wear away and Ian's knuckles started bleeding. Ian's breath grew heavy and he cried out painfully each time his fist collided with the man's destroyed face. Tears rolled down Ian's cheeks, he felt a persistent pain in his cut arm which grew worse as threw more punches. He cursed at his arm and threw one more blow at the man, before getting up. The man's face was red and dark blue all over, blood dripped from his chin and splattered onto the floor, breaking the quiet that had ensued. Ian took a step towards Karla, before pain shot through his arm again, sending him to the floor in a heap of pain and agonizing cries of crushing pressure and intensity. It was more the situation than the wound that burned Ian. Karla crawled over to Ian, and helped him up to his feet. He looked once again at the man's beaten and broken face before Karla helped him out of the room.

"Trevor…" said Ian, "I protected her and survived myself, Trevor; I know that is what you wanted for us."

Karla suddenly stopped moving and started trembling. Inside the classroom, the sound of something dragging itself to its feet could be heard.

"I wonder…" came a high pitched voice from the classroom, "I wonder if you felt pleasure when you beat my face in."

Karla and Ian turned around, horrified and shocked. The Thing in the classroom started shuffling towards them.

"I wonder...I wonder if you could really be like me after all…" muttered the Thing as it stood in the doorway, placing a fingerless and bloodied hand on the door that had taken those fingers.

Karla took a step back and Ian got off of her shoulder, placing himself in between Karla and the Thing.

Ian shook his head, sending tears and blood flying everywhere.

"I'm nothing like YOU DAMNIT!" yelled Ian as he picked up the broomstick that Trevor had used to defend himself, "I'M NOT LIKE YOU!"

Ian broke the broomstick across the thing's head. The impact had the same sound as a wet rag hitting a table. Blood splattered onto the floor and onto Ian, but the Thing didn't move.

"You're wrong, boy." Said the Thing in a gurgled voice, "We're exactly alike. Or are you going to try and say you didn't enjoy avenging your friend?"

The Thing grabbed the broomstick and jammed the broken end into its own eye socket. Ian let go of the stick and backed away in terror. Karla ran into the janitor's closet, almost tripping over Trevor's remains, and grabbed another broom.

"W-What?" stuttered Ian as the Thing shoved the broomstick all the way through its head, a sick popping noise was heard as it pushed through the back of the Thing's skull.

"There is one thing that makes us different though," explained the Thing as it threw the stick away, "I CAN'T DIE!"

"_Is this for real?"_ thought Ian, _"He can't die?"_

The man laughed and tore off his shirt, revealing signs of recent surgery. A putrid smell started flowing from the rough, ragged scars in his chest.

"The guy was right! I feel GREAT!" yelled the man as he flexed his muscles, "THIS IS AMAZING!"

Ian started backing away, Karla grabbed his arm.

"Let's run away!" said Karla, but Ian was fixated on the man, "C'mon!"

The man's stitched chest started to burst, the sound of skin ripping and fluids splattering filled their ears. A black, wriggling tendril sprouted from the hole in the man's chest.

The tendril slashed at the air, a bone like blade became apparent from its surface. Karla ran down the hall screaming, while Ian stood, staring at the black tendril. The man laughed and three more tendrils grew from his sides and back. Ian started crying silently and picked up the broom Karla had held, breaking off the brush and leaving a wooden point. The man yelled and his lower half disappeared in an explosion of black fluid and intestines. In place of his legs and waist was a mouth like structure covered in teeth and dripping saliva. Small, pink tentacles sprouted from inside the mouth and waved around very quickly. The man was still laughing when his broken face started falling apart, his face melted away and a gray, hairless form replaced it. The man's eyes were glowing green and his ears were long and pointed. Ian brought the stick in front of himself and took a fighting stance. The man finally stopped laughing and looked at Ian, the man shook his head.

"Look at me boy!" said the man, "Look upon your death!"

Ian remained in the fighting stance, and took a step towards the man.

"Aren't you scared kid?" asked the man, "I'LL KILL YOU!"

Ian brought the point of the stick back, and jammed it into the man's tendril leg. The man slapped Ian with the tendril leg, sending him flying into the wall. Ian got up, and took the fighting stance again.

"JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING KID?" screamed the man, "RUN AWAY, BREAK DOWN, DO SOMETHING! WHY AREN'T YOU SCARED?"

Ian shook his head, "You killed my precious friend. Now I'm going to kill you."

Ian jumped through the air, landing with his feet on the man's chest, gripping his shoulder with his free hand for support, and drove the stick into his ribcage. The man coughed up blood.

"You…how did you?" stuttered the man, "I'm supposed to be immortal!"

Ian pulled the stick from the man's chest and drove it through his head, first through the bottom of his jaw, and then through the top of his skull.

"Nothing is immortal." Said Ian as blood spurted onto his face, "Especially not scum like you."

The man started to close his eyes, slowly. Then he sprang back to life, opening his mouth wide to reveal sharp serrated teeth, and threw Ian off of himself. Ian landed in a heap; a snap characterized his cut arm. The man roared, lifting his arm into the air life some kind of tribal warrior. Ian got up again, clutching his arm, and stared at the man.

"Gotcha!" yelled the man with hysterical laughter, "You really thought you'd killed me? Such a noble, dramatic speech all for you do. Now die like the worm you are."

The man closed in on Ian, and picked him up while restraining his arms. The man opened his mouth; his jaw detached, and placed Ian's head inside. Then a loud sound broke the silence and Ian felt himself fall again, landing painfully on his broken arm. He looked up at the man and saw the gaping hole in his chest, black blood oozing from the horrendous wound. Another bang and the top of the man's head was gone, his tongue hanging down from a twitching lower jaw. Still another bang and the man fell over as one of his tendril legs was blown in two.

The man flopped around and convulsed, his own black blood pooling around him and splashing into the air with each of his movements. A shadowy figure stood over the body of the man, a huge gun stretched out at least a foot in front of the figure, pointed down at the man.

"Hey kid," said the Figure, "You should take cover or something, the shockwave from this will hurt if you stay here."

Ian nodded in awe at the Figure, and dived into the janitor's closet, pushing Trevor's body out of the doorway so he could close it. The Figure nodded at the door and looked down at the Man, whose head was slowly reforming.

"Looks like you caused a lot of trouble here, Ritchie." Said the Figure as he leaned down to examine the Man, "What've they done to you?"

The Man, Ritchie, spoke in broken words, his mouth still reforming. "ey ade me…trong!"

"They made you strong?" translated the Figure, "Apparently not if you can scarcely survive a few bullets."

Ritchie shot one of his tendrils out and into the Figure, piercing his ribcage with a sickening crunch of bones and a splatter of blood. The Figure took a step back before placing the muzzle of his gun on Ritchie's tendril and shooting it in half; the part inside him became limp, sliding out and onto the floor with a splat. Ritchie's head fully reformed, "I'm not being killed by the likes of you, Traitor!"

Traitor's wound healed up in just a few seconds, and he stepped forward again to face Ritchie's mangled body.

Ritchie's tendril legs fully reformed and he started running away with surprising speed. Ian jumped out in front of Ritchie and swung at him with a mop, but the monster didn't take any notice. Traitor sprinted down the hallway with inhuman quickness, all while firing at Ritchie with his gun. Ian caught a strange sight on Traitor in the moment he ran past him. While Traitor fired the huge handgun, no kickback was visible, and there was a lack of the natural blink reaction in Traitor's red eyes after each shot. Just as Traitor passed Ian, the aforementioned shockwaves from the gun caught up and pushed Ian back, creating an unnatural wind that stung Ian and forced him to shield his face with his forearms.

"_What crazy power!" _Thought Ian as his skin started to blister and crack away, _"These guys are unreal!"_

Further down the hallway, Ritchie's body fully regenerated and he threw his arm back towards Traitor, a hole opened in his palm and black fluid shot out like a fire hose. Traitor bowed his head to dodge, still keeping his ridiculous speed up, and reached into his jacket pocket for another clip for his gun. Ritchie took note of that and redirected the pressurized fluid at Traitor's jacket, melting the rest of his ammunition. Traitor put the gun back into its hidden holster and ran even faster, his arms forced to drag in the air behind him from the speed. Ritchie's eyes narrowed on Traitor and he leveled his palm with the floor in front of Traitor, intending to stop his movements. The black fluid hit the wooden floor and immediately ate into it, smoke rose from the melted and smoldering floor boards. Traitor turned slightly and ran on the wall, avoiding the caustic fluid and closing the gap between him and Ritchie by few yards.

"Quit following me, you imbecile!" yelled Ritchie in a gurgled voice as he threw his smaller waist tendrils at Traitor in a barrage of razor sharp death.

Traitor kept up his pace, dodging the attacks one after the other with only a simple movement of his neck and head, "You should give up, Ritchie." Said Traitor calmly, "I might show mercy if you do."

"DON'T FUCK WITH ME, TRAITOR!" Screamed Ritchie as he stopped altogether and lifted his undercarriage's mouth up to face the still oncoming Traitor, who was unable to stop as the small, pink tentacles wrapped around his arms and pulled him into the gaping, four part mouth of numerous and serrated teeth.

Traitor pulled a hidden magazine from his belt and slammed it into his pistol. The slide clicked back into firing position and Traitor shoved the barrel down Ritchie's undercarriage mouth, firing straight into the monster's inner organs. Bullets shot into one end of Ritchie and exited out the top of his head or his shoulders. Ritchie screamed and fell into a heap, his tentacles sliding off Traitor's arms and his face twitching.

"Well that settles that." Muttered Traitor as he holstered his gun, behind him, Ian walked into the open from the doorway he was hiding in.

"Y-you're amazing!" said Ian as he walked closer to Traitor, "Who are you?"

"You don't need to know anything about me, you just happened to be here and I just happened to save your life." Said Traitor coldly, "Don't think I came here to save you, I came here to kill Ritchie. Goodbye."

With that, Traitor disappeared in a flash of black mist and left Ian alone in the hallway. Footsteps behind him made Ian turn around and scream, throwing his arm over his face in a defensive reaction.

"It's just me!" cooed Karla, "Is it over?"

Ian looked at the steaming heap of flesh and viscous green-brown puss in front of him. Part of Ritchie's corpse melted into the floor boards, making the ground under his feet feel sticky.

"I think so…" Replied Ian with some nervousness, "But we should get out of here and call the cops anyway."

Karla pulled out her cell phone, "I've got a signal again. I wonder why I didn't have one befo-"

She broke down crying as an image of Trevor's lacerated form burned into her mind like a subconscious branding iron.

"What're we gonna do now?" she bawled, "Trevor's dead! He's dead! Dead! Dead!"

She started chanting it, and it stuck in Ian's mind. He kept hearing it over and over again: "Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead…"

Ian muttered, the chant replaying like a song in his mind, "Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead…"

Then it hit him: _Why aren't I dead?_

Ian's body shook and went numb and he crumpled into a pile at Karla's feet.

"WHY AREN'T I DEAD!" He screamed at the ceiling like a madman, "WHY AREN'T I DEAD!"

"_You're alive."_ Came a voice from the back of Ian's mind, _"Isn't that the meaning of life? Not dying?"_

Ian bawled like a child, "What's the point of living when I couldn't even save one friend?"

"_The point? Well there's no real point to life. I'm no philosopher you know!"_ lectured the voice, _"But I do know one thing that could help give your existence more meaning."_

"What is it!" yelled Ian

"Ian?" asked Karla in a worried voice, "Are you okay?"

"Tell me!" demanded Ian with a snarl

"_Revenge."_ Said the voice in a happy tone, _"Revenge is the result of a death, and the purpose to a new life."_


	2. Chapter 2

Necrosis

Chapter 2: Pulling the pieces together

The cops never showed up. The studio was still empty; a foreboding silence had overtaken the building. It didn't take long for panic to take control of Karla yet again; she started rummaging around the studio, as if she would find help from inside an unopened drawer or a clothing closet. Ian was still mourning Trevor; he'd covered his friend's body with a large towel he found in a bathroom. Dark spots were becoming visible on the towel where Trevor's body was cut. Ian was still trying to grasp what had happened to them a few moments earlier.

"_That guy came out of nowhere," _he thought to himself, _"Like he was from another world. He tore Ritchie to pieces and then disappeared. And what the hell was Ritchie for that matter? The guy looked like something from an H.P. Lovecraft story." _

"Cops, cops, cops…" muttered Karla as she pulled drawers out from their holdings and ripped open doors, "Help, help, help…"

"Give it up Karla!" said Ian loudly, "Nobody's coming to help us."

Karla gasped and shot a terrified look at Ian, "No! T-the police! Trevor, Karla, Ian, Ritchie, Traitor, dead! DEAD, DEAD, DEAD!"

"You're insane." Said Ian, "Outta take some pills or something…"

Karla shook her head in quick, frantic turns. Her hair frizzed and flew into the air as she lost complete control and crumpled onto the floor in tears again.

That was when Ian realized how well he was taking the death of his closest friend. Karla barely knew him, and yet she'd been driven near mad at his death.

"_No," _Whispered the voice, _"She's not mourning Trevor, she's been driven mad by the sudden destruction of her 'comfort zone'"_

"You don't have much faith in humans, do you?" asked Ian out loud

"_Nobody should, they're unreliable, weak in mind and body, and they never seem to keep their promises."_ Lectured the voice, _"Glad I'm not one of them."_

"But you're a part of me." Said Ian, "A figment of my imagination, caused by sensory overload and misguided guilt."

"_We'll see…"_

A loud noise from outside drew Ian's attention; he spun around with his good arm in front of him. The other hung at his side like a dead fish. Another noise, louder still, the scraping of fingernails on wood.

"Hello?" cried Ian as he looked around the studio "Is someone there?"

Silence was the only response he received; Ian felt something running down his face. He slapped a hand onto his cheek and found that it was bloodied; his sweat had made Trevor's dried blood run again. The scraping noises had disappeared; Karla was getting up again, wiping tears from her eyes.

"You keep crying like that and you'll become dehydrated." Said Ian dryly, "Here, let's find you something to drink."

Ian and Karla walked down the hallway together and to a bathroom, inside they found a sink and Ian turned the handle. Nothing happened.

"Huh?" though Ian out loud, he turned the handle the other way, until it stopped turning. Still nothing happened

"No water?" asked Karla, "No water, no lights, does that mean?"

"No power? We'll just have to wait it out, and the cops should show up soon anyway." Lied Ian, knowing that the cops wouldn't show up if things were as severe as he was starting to think they were

Ian's plan seemed to calm Karla down a little, as she pulled a towel from the wall and ripped it into long strips. She wrapped Ian's broken arm in a larger piece and then secured it by typing the smaller strips around his arm and up behind his neck. An effective makeshift sling.

"Nice to have you back, Karla." He said in appreciation, "My arm had gone completely numb, now at least it's not in danger of banging against stuff."

"Well I couldn't just leave you like that." She said with a smile, "You'll become useless if you don't have both of your arms."

"_I think you shouldn't wait for the cops." _Whispered the voice, _"They won't show up and you know it."_

"Shut up." Muttered Ian, "They'll be here... they'll be here" he reassured himself

Karla looked at Ian curiously, _he was just talking to himself_, she thought. _Bah, I don't really blame him_. She looked out a window and realized that it was night time.

"That's strange." Karla said, "There's no street lights outside."

Ian looked out the window, a growing nervousness started to manifest inside him. He shook it off and walked back towards the main entrance. A fizzing noise made him jump as he passed the smoldering pile of sludge that was Ritchie. The memory of Trevor's body came back to him and he cringed before averting his eyes quickly. Karla took hold of Ian's hand and walked past with her eyes closed, not wanting to see the leftovers of that monster. They moved towards the entrance, Karla brushed her hair back down and Ian wiped Trevor's blood from his face.

"You know that nobody's going to believe this story." Said Karla as she slicked back her bangs, "They might even think that we ki-"

"I know." Said Ian angrily, "But it'll be okay, night is darkest just before the dawn, right? That's what Trevor always used to say…"

Karla looked at her feet as she walked, not wanting to see the look in Ian's eyes after what he just said. She decided to learn more about her new companion, at least until they made it safely to a police station.

"Ian?" asked Karla suddenly, "Where did you grow up?"

"By the way Karla?" asked Ian, ignoring the question, "Did you hear any strange noises earlier?"

"I heard a lot of strange things today Ian." Said Karla with coldness, upset that he wasn't going to tell her about himself, "Be more specific."

"A scraping noise," explained Ian, "Just before we found out that the power was dead."

Karla shook her head just as another scraping noise was heard, making the two stop. Ian started sweating more profusely and fell to his knees in exhaustion; Karla didn't try to stop his fall. She was busy looking down the pitch dark hall. Footsteps, shuffling, almost like…

"It's that guy!" said Karla in terror, "He's back!"

Ian was immediately up on his feet, adrenaline kicking in as he grabbed Karla's hand a pulled her into another abandoned studio room. The shuffling was different from Ritchie's though, it had no direction to it, like whoever was making the noise was simply walking in circles. Ian tried to pick up a chair but his good arm alone wasn't strong enough, forcing him to simply hide. The shuffling grew closer and the ray of light coming through the door's window was blocked out. A horribly guttural moan flew into the room and Karla covered her ears, whimpering in mental anguish. Ian held his hand to his head as the voice came back; it felt like someone was clawing at the back of his head when it spoke.

"_Look at your new enemy Ian,"_ it whispered, _"Look upon the epitome of the human race, see what you all are really like on the inside."_

"Why won't you leave me alone?" asked Ian, his voice almost incoherent, "I'm not in shock anymore, you should be gone."

"Ian," begged Karla, "Be quiet, it's right there!"

Ian looked at the window and saw a hideous sight. Shriveled eyes that ran with dried blood, gray wrinkled skin that tore when the man's mouth moved up and down. Broken teeth formed jagged ends and a swollen black tongue filled almost the entire mouth. A few strands of hair hung down over its ears, as the two survivors looked on, some of the hair fell out in a tuff. The sound of nails on wood made Karla wince.

"What is that thing?" asked Karla, "It doesn't look like the guy who got Trevor."

"No, it's definitely not Ritchie." Said Ian, he glanced to the other side of the room and spotted a window.

Karla and Ian ran to the window and forced it open; they were about twenty feet off the ground. A withered oak tree was a yard and a half to the left of the window, its gnarled branches extending out under the frame.

"Ever climb trees when you were little?" asked Ian bleakly as he put a foot out the window and onto a ledge. Karla looked terrified of climbing down the tree, but she opened an adjacent window hastily as another moan entered the room. The rough tree bark dug into Karla's soft pale skin leaving swollen pink bruises on her arms and legs. Ian was having trouble getting down the tree, with one arm broken and gashed he had to carefully grip the trunk with his legs and let friction hold him up, rather painfully at that. He slipped down to a branch about seven feet above the ground and leapt down to it, hooked the branch with his legs and then transferred to his good arm. He held himself up for a moment before letting go and landing on his feet. Above him, Karla was moving quickly down the tree, leaping branch to branch and landing on her feet like a cat. Ian glanced at the scrapes on her arms.

"Maybe short sleeves weren't the best idea." He said jokingly

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting to be climbing trees today." Karla replied with a grim smile, she looked out into the city and her eyes widened

"What is it?" ask Ian, thinking she was staring at him "Something on my face?"

"The city…" said Karla as she held a hand over her mouth and pointed with the other one, "It's burning!"

Ian turned to see plumes of smoke and flames pouring from skyscrapers, then he spotted people in the streets. They walked about their business as if nothing were wrong.

"What's wrong with those people?"Asked Ian

As he spoke, a loud crashing noise from the studio made them turn, a person landed in a misshapen heap at Karla's feet. It was the man that had tried to get into the studio room before they'd climbed down the tree. His arms and legs were at awkward angles and his neck looked broken. He stirred suddenly, his head twisted in a full three-sixty motion like some sick exorcism joke.

"What _is_ this guy?" asked Karla as she poked at the strange man's ribs with her shoe

The man's skin tore away like tissue paper when Karla touched him, which made her smile strangely. A dark, thick liquid oozed out of the wound and piled onto the ground like paste. Ian made a face of disgust and averted his eyes from the sight. He instead looked at Karla, he took note of how her body moved when she breathed, and it gave him an odd feeling of comfort and peacefulness.

"_What's this?"_ asked the voice, _"Half an hour ago your closest friend was turned into ground meat and you're already hunting for women? You pathetic human and your instinctual priorities."_

"Shhh," whispered Ian to himself, "I'm just thinking about something."

Indeed thoughts were filling Ian's mind, Karla's breathing was pushed to the back of his head as he looked back into the city. He focused as much as he could at the closest person. Gray skin. He looked back to the strange guy the Karla was toying with. Gray skin.

"This is bad." Said Ian out loud, "We should go. Now."

"Why?" she asked, continuing to poke out holes in the man's skin, "I like it here. I can do whatever I want to this guy."

Ian's head started throbbing more, the voice was gnawing away at him, he could hear it humming in the back of his mind. The sound was getting progressively more high-pitched and he found himself unable to think logically. His vision blurred and darkened, but quickly returned back to normal.

"What are you talking…?" his voice trailed off as Karla grabbed the man's ankle and pulled, hard. It came off with a spurt of black liquid, Karla's smile became abnormally large as she threw the twitching foot aside and reached for the other one. Ian just stood and watched in shock as Karla stepped on the man's fingers one by one, laughing all the time.

"Karla…" Ian said, almost in a whisper, "Please stop."

But Karla didn't hear him; she crushed the man's skull under her boot and licked her lips voraciously while laughing. Ian felt a tickle in the bottom of his gut, and started laughing quietly as well, but he quickly stopped himself.

"_Why'd you stop?" _said the voice disappointedly, _"Karla understands, so why do you resist?"_

"Because I'm not a monster." Said Ian out loud, "Karla isn't either."

"_You're absolutely right."_ Said the voice, _"Neither of you are monsters. You're much, much worse."_

Ian's face grew red and he held a hand to his throbbing head, "Just what the hell are you talking about, worse than monsters?"

"_You're human."_ Whispered the voice, _"Any monster you ever come across is an invention of the human mind's depravity. All of existence would be better off without that kind of disgusting imagination. Even a beast has limits on what it'll do, and what a beast does is always for survival. Humans do things for 'fun'."_

Ian opened his mouth to respond, but found nothing that could counter what the voice had whispered with its dark tongue. The voice laughed once and then faded back to the depths of Ian's subconscious, as it did the throbbing in Ian's head ceased. He looked down at the strange man that Karla was playing with earlier and found that he was holding its severed foot; he turned to see Karla staring at him with fearful eyes.

"Y-you started talking to yourself!" said Karla with quick breaths, "Then you just started tearing pieces off of that man!"

She took a step backwards, "I yelled at you but you didn't stop!"

Ian looked down at the black blood on his hand and jeans, he wiped some off on his shirt and looked around, as if he'd just woken up. He looked at Karla and back to the dead man, then to the severed feet and crushed fingers. He pulled his leg up and examined the bottoms of his shoes, the grips had pieces of flesh and nail fragments wedged inside them. Then he thought back to the throbbing in his head that started as soon as Karla began tearing pieces off the man…

"An illusion?" he asked out loud, "The voice made me think that Karla was doing it, while it was really me all along?"

He looked again at the twisted and bleeding form of the gray-skinned man. Reality hit him like a bullet through the skull. Ian dropped the foot and fell onto the ground, shaking with pulsating terror. He brought his hand to his head and screamed when he felt blood from the man on his hand. Tears dripped down his face and he wailed, Karla's expression changed from one of fear to the look that a mother gives to a scared child. She knelt down next to Ian and, after hesitating several times, put her hands on his shoulder and pressed her head against his.

"I'm not going into that city alone." She said nervously, "So I need you to snap out of it and come with me!"

Ian sniffed and wiped his tears away, smearing blood onto his face again. Karla helped him up and they walked towards the city of fire. The heat hit them only a few seconds before the smell did. The smell of burnt hair and rotting flesh, coupled with the heat, it stopped them in their tracks. As they stopped, the people became more visible to Ian. Several were on fire, yet still walked normally, still others were missing body parts. Black fluid was in puddles across the sidewalks and on ruined cars. Ian looked up and noticed a middle aged woman walk straight out of a window and thud horribly onto the street.

"God help us…" murmured Karla as they walked through the ruined streets

"If there still is one, you mean." Said Ian coldly as he held back vomit

A large mass of the gray skinned people were crowded around a pickup truck, banging on the windows. An elderly man was inside the truck, holding a shotgun in between his legs with its muzzle pointed up at his jaw. The man's eyes darted from one gray-skin to another, then to Karla and Ian. He looked as though he was calling to them, but Ian and Karla didn't hear anything, nor did they stop to try and help the man. Ian kept walking and Karla followed. As they approached a camping store, the sound of breaking glass was heard, quickly followed by a gunshot.

The store was empty aside from a cold corpse that lay next to the door. No wounds covered her body, but her eyes looked as though all the fluid had been drawn out of them.

"What do you think happened to her?" asked Karla, "She committed suicide maybe?"

"It doesn't seem like that bad of an option anymore."

The store was stripped almost bare, aside from trinkets that had been dropped in the rush of panic. Karla knelt down and picked up a buck knife, three inches of razor steel, and held it in her hand. Ian approached the counter and opened the register, it was empty.

"People took money in a situation like this?" asked Karla, "What kind of person would be concerned by something like that _now_?"

Ian shook his head, "Some people just don't know how to deal with change, so they cling onto what they held dear in the past."

Ian searched the counter and spotted a shiny object. A large lock hung from the second drawer down, it gleamed in the light of the fires.

"Look for a key." Said Ian as he checked the rest of the drawers

Karla walked over to the dead woman and searched her pockets; she turned around with a key dangling from her fingers. The body slumped over behind her, lifeless as ever. Then it moved, a sort of twitching jerky movement, and lifted itself to it's feet. It moaned and walked towards Karla with it's arms outstretched. Karla cried out and drove the buck knife through the woman's chest. Once soft, supple flesh gave way and fell off with a splat, what was once milk dripped out as thick, black fluid. The woman's mouth opened and closed, drool dripped from her jaws and fell onto Karla's hands. Ian dragged himself forward from behind the counter, grabbing a coat rack with his hand on the way, and smashed the gray-skin. The woman fell to the ground, the rack had caught her in the jaw. He head was normal from the top of her head to the bottom of her top jaw, the rest was a black mush. A gurgling sound came out of the still moving woman, and Ian jabbed the gray-skin through the eye socket with the metal rack. After that, they turned their attention back to the locked drawer. The key didn't fit, So Ian pounded the lock with the rack, but with only one arm he was too weak.

"Let me try." Said Karla as she took the coat rack from Ian's hand

The ends of the rack bent and snapped but the lock also gave way. Karla pulled the drawer open and a black pistol slid down to the front of the drawer. Karla took her hand off the drawer and backed away.

"I see that you don't like guns." Said Ian, "Fair enough, I'll take it."

Ian pressed the twitch under the trigger and a magazine slid out, he counted the bullets.

"I've got seventeen shots." He explained to Karla as he slipped the magazine back into the gun, "It's not easy to aim a pistol in general, and now I'll have to do it with only one arm. Let's hope we don't need to use this."

"Strange things are happening, Ian." Said Karla, "We need to be ready for anything."

Ian nodded and looked outside at the pickup truck. The number of the gray-skins around the truck had nearly tripled in size; Ian could see the silvery metal from shotgun cartridges.

"I think we should try and get that gun." Said Ian as he absentmindedly opened the double doors that led outside. Karla followed closely behind him, her eyes danced in their sockets nervously.

"I don't think this is a good idea." She whispered, "What about those people around the truck?"

Ian kept walking, he pointed to the truck with the pistol, "I can see a small space between the far side of the truck and the wall of the building it's up against. There aren't any of those things on that side because the space is too small for them."

He eyed Karla up and down, causing her to back away.

"No way, you are _not_ serious about this!"

Ian tugged at his arm, which hung uselessly in the sling Karla had made.

Karla shook her head, "No way Ian! It's not worth it for another gun."

"My arm is broken." He said coldly as he pointed the pistol at the bandages, "And I'm too big to fit in there anyway. You have to do this."

"Why?" protested Karla, "What do we need a shotgun for? You can't even use it with one arm!"

Ian smiled and pointed at the coat rack in her hands. It was flimsy, made from cheap metal, and she knew that he was at least partially right. She wouldn't be able to fend off anything with the rack.

"Fine!" she said with a scorn, "But if I die, I _will_ come back to get you."

It was a joke, but still both Ian and Karla felt coldness in her voice that was not intended.

"How do I get to the other side?" she asked with a sigh

"Over there." Ian pointed to an alley way that lay between the building the pickup was against and the adjacent one, "There must be a door that leads into the building. Find it and make your way to that window."

He pointed to a large window with fire-escape attached to it. The ladder looked like it could bring Karla right down next to the pickup. She nodded and moved towards the alley. Ian grinned and his eyes turned all black as he walked backwards into the shadows, and disappeared. Karla reached the door only to find that it was locked. The gray-skins remained focused on the pickup truck, for the moment at least. Karla banged on the door with the coat rack in desperation as the first gray-skin moved towards her. She exhausted herself to the point at which her vision blurred, she dropped the rack and tried to escape. She couldn't however, because the alley was blocked by gray-skins who crowded in and shuffled towards her, releasing moans and tearing sounds as their skin tore from the sudden movement. Karla started crying again and called out for help from Ian, but nobody answered.

"Please!" she yelled in terror, "Someone help!"

The words were lost to the wind and the gray-skins approached Karla with open jaws. Only they never bit into her like she expected. They stood there, with their arms outstretched, and stared at her with empty eye sockets.

"Indoctrination time." Muttered a shadowy figure who sat on the fire escape a few yards away, "Pity, the last human in the city get's fooled by an agent of the Dark Ones." The figure pulled an oversized pistol from his torn cloak and pointed it at the group of gray-skins. He rested his sights for a moment on the gray-skins and then moved them onto Karla.

"Someone dies." Whispered the figure, "And so they are dead."

Karla looked up at the figure on the fire escape and called for help, in the same instant she looked into the street where Ian was last and saw him. He stood there, mouth slightly open, eyes cold and blue as ever. His head was tilted slightly to the side and he stood perfectly still, staring at her with an empty grin. His expression scared Karla more than the gray-skins for a moment.

"Ian" she said with sob, "please…"

The figure leveled in on Karla and started closing his finger around the trigger.

"Someone is killed." Whispered the figure, "And so they are absorbed."

A shot rang out and Karla fell to the ground in a heap of flesh, her head seemed to have disappeared, but a red, spurting neck stump remained. Ian didn't move, just grinned wider. He looked at the figure and winked before turning around.

"Oh no you don't." said the figure as he fire at Ian, sending a round up between his shoulder blades and out his chest. Ian looked down at the gaping hole in his body and then everything went black.

When he came to, everything was still black, then suddenly white as a light switched on. He quickly realized that he was sitting in a cold metal chair, and that his limbs were bound to the chair. He felt an incessant throbbing in his chest and pains in the back of his head.

"What…the…hell?" he forced out slowly, the words feeling foreign to his tongue. He turned to his left, nothing but more white light. He turned to his right and saw Karla; she had white plastic all around her head and face. It traveled down her neck a ways and then stopped in a metal collar.

"Karla?" he wondered aloud, "Is that you?"

His answer came when he noticed the scrapes on her arms from climbing down the tree. _"But that's insane,"_ he thought, _"They look almost healed."_

The brown scabs were smaller than the wounds had been, much smaller. What's more, he realized that his arm was not in pain anymore, and he could move it.

"Just what is going on here?" he asked in a dry voice, "Where are we? Why is it so bright in here?"

"The answers," came a raspy voice that coincided with footsteps on tile floors, "Will become clear once we finish fixing up your friend. And once we're sure that the voice's influence has left your mind."

The light suddenly shut off and darkness reigned again. In the dark, Ian saw a pair of green eyes glowing at him from across the room; the eyes weren't malicious, just curious. He closed his eyes and fell asleep right away. For some reason, his chest felt like it had been pounded on by a hammer.


	3. Chapter 3

Ian felt numb, his limbs were dead weight. Everywhere he looked he saw stone walls and great pillars covered in hanging moss. The very air was damp; it hung heavy and slowed Ian down as he walked, descended the steps. His arms hung like a ragdoll's at his side, weighing him down as he walked, swaying side to side strangely. He felt wet moss under his feet, it dripped and his shoes squished into the stairs oddly, he glanced down at them and saw small green vines growing over his feet. He cried out and ripped his feet free, the vines pulled loose and he fell down the staircase painfully. His shoulder collided with the last step and he heard a sick pop as it dislocated. He barely felt the pain and quickly pushed his shoulder back into place with another pop; the one he felt, it made him grimaced. He began to push himself to his knees when he noticed a man standing in front of him. The man wore strange clothes, as if he were from an Alamo movie or something, Ian though. He had a satchel that was made of worn leather and hung at his waist. The man turned back once to look at the staircase, glanced down to where Ian was, and stepped forward. The man suddenly recoiled, his hand over his face, and vomited. A second later, the wave of foul air hit Ian as well. The back of his head throbbed and he thought he heard the voice whisper, but it only accounted to white noise. The voice was speaking, but not in a language Ian recognized, it was like a high pitched breathing, but the sounds were coordinated. Ian looked up at the man again in time to see him crumple over in terror of something, the man let out a terrified noise and turned to run away, back up the stairs, tripping as he went. Ian turned away from the fleeing man and looked were the man was looking. A great creature lay before him, bones and flesh hung off one another, the beast was massive. A pair of wings that were mostly bone twitched, making Ian vomit violently. It was alive, even though its flesh rotted and stank. Ian wanted to run, but still he forced himself forward, towards the corpse. Another wind of the creature's breath blew onto him, watering his eyes. The stench grew worse and Ian now wholly wanted to run away, as the man had, but he was being willed toward the beast by a force that was not his own. He looked at himself and saw the green vines growing all over his body, yet he couldn't move to tear them off. They grew and grew and turned black and stiff, locking his limbs in place. Yet he was still dragged towards the corpse, the smell made him gag, but no bile would come up. He was pushed through the wet, delicate layer of skin and into boiling intestines. Ian screamed and fuming flesh poured down his throat, it pushed through his eyes and up his nostrils. Ian heard the voice clearly now. It said he was going to die.

Ian screamed back to consciousness as the darkness fled. He looked around frantically, searching for the giant corpse or the strange man. His breathing returned to normal and he faced forward, his sore eyes resting on the man sitting across from him. The man stared back with piercing green eyes but didn't move. Ian struggled in his restraints.

"Hey!" he yelled at the man, "Where am I?! What's going on here?!"

Next to him, Karla made a muffled noise from behind the white mask she wore. Ian looked at her and then at the man. He suddenly recognized the man by the tear in his cloak.

"Y-you!" he stuttered, "You're that guy! Traitor!"

Traitor smiled slightly before disappearing in a flash of red and black. Another man walked into the room, holding an object that looked like a TV remote. Ian glared at the man; he looked like some kind of doctor. Ian hated doctors.

"Where am I?" demanded Ian sternly

"Shhh. Don't strain yourself just yet. You need to relax until the procedure is complete."

"What procedure?! What did you do to me? And what's on Karla's face?!"

"That's a regeneration mask – listen, all your questions will be answered as soon as we're done with your decontamination."

"Decontamination…?" Ian's voice trailed off as memories flooded back. He remembered sending Karla to that fire escape with the intention of leaving her to die. Why had he done that? And then there was something else…_BANG_…the memory of getting shot came back.

"Who shot me?" asked Ian, "Was it you?"

"No, that was Traitor."

"Why did he do that?"

"It was necessary to your survival."

"You better start explaining, because nothing you've said so far has made sense."

The doctor sighed in defeat, "Suppose there's no reason to delay then. Now, listen closely, because this can get confusing even to me sometimes."

Ian nodded.

"My name is Wilhelm Steinhauser. I am…was…an international criminal. But the governments faked my death and kept me to work for them, to make their new weapons. I worked with a multinational team of scientists to create a virus that would accelerate metabolism, shut down advanced pain receptors and speed up clotting to prevent bleed out. This virus would be used to make the perfect soldier. We succeeded in every way except one. The virus had to be engineered individually for each person it was administered to. This was a very long, and expensive, process. The effects of the virus on someone it was not engineered for are horrifying. The victim looses most of their mental functions and cognitive abilities. They being to wander aimlessly, spreading the virus through contact with the uninfected."

Ian's mind filled with doubt. This sounds crazy, why is he telling me this? Then he remembered, "You mean like those gray-skinned people that we saw in the city?"

"Precisely, those are prime examples of what I'm talking about. Here's the really interesting part: the virus was based off of living beings, far superior to humans. We still do not know what they are exactly, but I was able to decipher some of their genetic code. I acquired a tissue sample during the Allied invasion of Berlin. I was among the defenders. Two strange men in cloaks entered the field and decimated our Soldats in a matter of minutes; they broke into the Fuhrer's bunker and killed him. There was nothing left of him when I checked after they'd left. My squad was the first attacked, I saw the others getting butchered and decided to play dead. When they left Hitler's bunker, there were three of them. Seizing the opportunity, I took the skin that was lodged in my dead commander's nails. He'd been torn in half. They were incomplete samples, yet gave so much information. These creatures were able to survive bullets. I saw one of them leap straight into a mortar round and be fine afterwards. Another one, their leader I presumed, destroyed one of our mighty super-howitzers by simply touching it. Yet they looked like men."

Ian didn't know what to say, so he produced the most predictable thing for a human to say, "You're insane."

"Probably, yes, but even an insane man knows to believe his own eyes. Certainly this is a believable explanation after what you saw from Ritchie."

"How do you know Ritchie?"

"He was my number two man when developing the final strain of the virus. He was there when it was released. So were the men from Berlin, Derek said that they hadn't aged. That man I had elected to lead the project, Derek, was the only other survivor, he survived because they let him live. Ritchie betrayed us and became indoctrinated. Which is what almost happened to you and your friend."

"Indoctrinated?" Ian blinked

"Somehow, an outside force is controlling the infected. I believe that it's the doing of the three men from Berlin. They directed them to do…something to their victims and the results leave the victim uninfected, yet under their control. The people under their control are unaware of what's happening, the only sign is a persistent voice in their heads."

"The voice. I had that. It was so strange, it made me…do things."

"Indeed it did, you were almost lost, but Traitor saved you."

"…By shooting me in the head?"

"Yes."

Ian rubbed his eyes, and noticed that his hands were not tied down like they were before. He looked at Steinhauser questioningly. Then he remembered something and looked at Karla. Steinhauser smiled and pressed a button on his remote. The plastic mask on her face dissolved and she leaned forward, still unconscious. She started breathing steadily.

"Why did she have that mask on?" asked Ian

"Traitor shot her in the head. We had to regenerate it and clone her brain using samples from the scene. It wasn't easy, I hope she appreciates it."

"Why would he shoot her in the head?!"

"I wouldn't know. He's not part of my organization, he just shows up sometimes. Comes and goes as he pleases. Some of the men are wary of him, but I think he's harmless."

"Maybe he's like those men in Berlin, but he's friendly?"

"Like I said, I wouldn't know."

"He saved us from Ritchie..."

"A coincidence, nothing more. Traitor was there to eliminate Ritchie, not to save you, why he took an interest in you afterward, I do not know. Why he contacted us to save you, I do not know either. But you owe him a great deal."

Ian started to stand up, but found that his legs burned at the slightest movement. He winced and fell back into the chair.

"I wouldn't try to move just yet." Steinhauser smiled, "You've been injected with a chemical that puts you pain receptors on overload when you try to move too much. I'll give you the cure if you do something for me."

Ian felt the burning wane away and he relaxed back into the chair, he glanced at Karla. Her hair had fallen in front of her face, her lips were cracked and dry. Still, she looked young and beautiful, thought Ian as his muscles relaxed. She's alright, I'm alright; we made it out alive.

"What do you need me to do." Asked Ian, his head hanging down in defeat, "I'll do whatever you ask."

Steinhauser smiled and got out of his seat, spinning a syringe on the end of his finger.

"I want you to take the very same virus that I spoke of a moment ago."

Ian's eyes became saucers, _"Take the virus?! He really is insane!"_

"I see you're surprised at my request. This is understandable, but your life depends on it." Explained Steinhauser, "If you don't take the virus, then the indoctrination will continue."

"But you said!-"

"Traitor delayed it by killing you. The indoctrination is still in effect, it will take the same amount of time as it did before he shot you. You've got around three hours, if you're not cured, I'll kill you myself."

Ian looked at Karla, him dying was fine, but he couldn't condemn this woman, almost a stranger, to death. It wasn't his place.

"What about Karla?"he asked softly, "Will she be indoctrinated too?"

Steinhauser nodded slowly, "And I'm afraid that the virus is the only thing that will wake her from that coma."

Ian's face twisted in anger and confusion, how could he dictate this woman's life? But if he doesn't act, she'll die cold and alone. He couldn't condemn her, but he himself was a different matter.

"I don't want the virus." Said Ian sternly, "I am a human, I plan on remaining as a human until I die."

"Don't lie to me, Ian," said Steinhauser sternly, "I know your opinion on humans. _I know what you did three years ago."_

Ian was thrown back into his seat by the force of those words, _"How does he….? I've got no choice then."_

Steinhauser looked at Ian with questioning eyes, and Ian nodded, he looked at Karla and Ian nodded again. Steinhauser quickly injected Karla on her wrist. He walked over to Ian and pushed the needle through after swabbing his skin. Ian winced as the virus entered his system, his head started throbbing. His vision became gray, then black. He stayed blind for a few minutes, while his sight was gone, he heard everything. He could hear Steinhauser and Karla breathing; he heard an insect scuttle across the floor behind him. He remained this way for a few minutes, blind, focusing on the noises around him. Then he felt it, a surge of energy that came from the spot of injection and spread throughout his body with frightening speed. It felt like someone had put rivers of marbles in his veins, he screamed and screamed until the rivers of marbles settled and dissipated. His vision came back and Steinhauser was smiling broadly. His face seemed to communicate any emotion that words could not: satisfaction, happiness, joy even. But his eyes caught Ian more than his smile or his thunderous laugh. His eyes, which displayed a fear, a terror unimaginable. His eyes that made Ian remember the dream again.


End file.
